


Not Enough

by mythmutation



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Gen, I don't really know how to tag things, Oneshot, POV Jon Snow, R Plus L Equals J, and I killed him, jon snow dies AGAIN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24176644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythmutation/pseuds/mythmutation
Summary: Jon Snow dies a second time. This time, it's Arya that brings him back.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Arya Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Quick Notes!  
> 1\. I took some creative liberties and pretty heavily blended show and books.  
> 2\. This is my first fic I have literally ever written, much less posted! Please consider giving a comment, kudos, or giving feedback of any kind! :)  
> 

Jon I

_The familiar timbre of Red Woman’s voice comes floating over him, and he squeezes his eyes shut even tighter._

_Her voice seems far away, as though she was speaking to him from behind a door._

_He tries to stand up straighter, tries to put his chin up, but nothing moves. He is suspended, his body leaden and his limbs feel as stiff and fragile as glass. Around him, there is no feeling-- of heat, of cold, of otherwise._

_He feels a delicate palm sliding up his chest. It’s a soft, gentle touch. A woman’s touch._

_Jon forces his eyes open and feels them burning._

_Daenerys stands before him, smiling beautifully. Her teeth and hair are pearlescent, white and shining with the softest hint of an otherworldly luster. Her deep violet eyes seem to smile too. Dany’s other hand comes up to cup his cheek, and she brushes soft lips against the rough hair on his jaw._

_“Come back to me,” she pleads, “I love you.”_

_It is not enough._

_Her form fades away slowly and Jon’s eyes snap shut of their own volition._

_“-- back from death and darkness --”_

_The Red Woman’s voice comes again, softer and further away._

_Jon feels a hand on his shoulder, heavy and calloused and thick._

_He forces himself to look again, this time craning his neck to look behind him._

_Reaching down from a great black courser is his Uncle Benjen, long-faced and solemn. Benjen Stark’s gray eyes match his own and Jon feels calm. He feels the sensation of cool water washing over him and he shifts ever so slightly, leaning into the touch._

_“With me, Jon. Be with your brothers. Your father for true. You’ve done enough.”_

_Jon thinks of the vows he’s broken and the people he’s left behind. He thinks of the way it felt the first time, to come back more wolf than man, trapped inside of Ghost for days. His consciousness abandoning the bloodlust, the savagery, the instinctive nature of the hunt and the call of a release from humanity, only to be sent back to the body of a man. This time is different._

_He thinks of the feeling of the first knife, the second, the third he never felt. He pictures the faces of his brothers as they swung, hanged and unseeing. The face of the youngest, frozen in time; a heart that stopped young while the pierced one kept beating._

_He remembers the narrow top of the wall in the bitter cold when he first arrived, a chill he knew to be as cold as death itself. He remembers Ghost by his side and a half-man dead ahead._

_“_ _Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you,” he had said._

_Then comes to his mind death itself. Crawling over the ramparts at Winterfell. Corpses by the thousand seeking the realm of man. The fires that burned over armies to the fires that lit funeral pyres ablaze. Burning flesh._

_He imagines a corpse of half-Robb and half-Greywind and the lolling, severed head of the man he called Father. He imagines the decaying, rotten remains of the woman that despised him and cursed his being, nearly wonders who she may have been had she known who he truly was._

_He pictures Ygritte, wild and beautiful and strong. He remembers her smirk and the feeling of her skin and the way she tasted. He remembers her blood going cold between his fingers._

_It’s almost enough._

_But he remembers a letter._

_I want my bride back._

_I want my bride back._

_I want my bride back._

_The coolness surrounding him heats and Benjen’s hand is gone, willed away._

_Winterfell swirls and blends and rises around him, replacing the inky unknown. All at once the memories of home overlap one another in unfathomable ways, and he is overlooking the training yard while sitting in the banquet hall while standing in the Godswood, under the watchful eyes of the heart tree._

_He holds his hand out and he can almost see a thin, tapering sword balanced perfectly in his palm._

_Stick ‘em with the pointy end._

_Don’t....Tell...Sansa!_

_He wills himself to see her in front of him, a skinny, knobby-kneed girl of nine._

_She is wild and loud and she screams at Sansa._

_Not a half-brother, a brother._

_She smiles at him, kicks mud up at him. She is covered in scratches and bruises. Her eyes are big and round and grey, her hair is long and tangled and brown._

_He reaches down and ruffles her hair. Little sister._

_In a blink of his burning eyes, she is gone._

_His entire body feels like fire and the heat is consuming him._

_The little pup is replaced by a great she-wolf. A woman._

_Her eyes are cold steel and her features rest in a grim, hard line. She is beautiful, her lips full and cheekbones high, her face is slender and gracefully sharp. She stands proud with a sword on her right hip and a dagger on her left. A running wolf is emblazoned on her doublet._

_She has known death nearly as well as he. She has seen it, created it, worshipped it. She was beaten, scorned, cut, and blinded. She had almost been no one-- but for a tiny tapering sword too small for her now, and the bastard boy who loved her._

_Her gaze meets him and softens._

_“I died for you,” Jon chokes. His words are catching in his throat and his lungs feel ready to burst. His eyes begin to water and he reaches out to her._

_She clasps his outstretched hand and pulls it tight to her chest. He envelopes her in his arms and buries his face in the soft hair at the crown of her head. He closes his eyes._

_“I know,” she says._

_It’s enough._

_“_ _\-- been extinguished. Restore it.”_

Jon’s eyes open.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr at mythmutation.tumblr.com


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